Corrupted
by seastarved
Summary: Dark!Emma AU where Emma has been corrupted by her magic. Cold, unflinching and strong, she rules ruthlessly and when a reckless Killian Jones swaggers into her court, swearing allegiance to her (among other things), she takes him in as her new toy. Things change when he begins to see the truth of her, the lost girl, the broken woman. Will he bring her back or will she break him?
1. Summary

_A/N:_ Hello there! So, every chapter of this story will come with a graphic attached to the original post on tumblr. This is the summary I originally wrote and then decided to expand into this story so I figured I'd include it.

_Graphic here:_ tmblr . co/ZVRwvr1KNGW1J

_Disclaimer:_ I own nothing.

* * *

She dresses herself in silvers and whites. It is an attempt at purity or her way of laughing at it, she's not quite sure.

Somedays she is convinced she is doing the right thing, that her magic is the only thing standing in between her kingdom and evil, that the price of her humanity is worth it. Other days, she embraces her role, _The Corrupted One_, they call her and she takes great joy in proving them right. She finds herself heroes, men and women of unadulterated goodness and she changes them, makes them like herself. She wants to show these people that goodness and virtue are things of myth and have no place here in this world of magic and cruelty.

Then one day, she finds _him_. He comes to her court with a reckless sort of swagger, like staying alive is the least of his concerns. He is _gorgeous_ and she has been craving a new toy so she asks him to stay. They enjoy each other for a while (he is quite adept at using that hook of his) but soon, things change.

He _sees_ her.

He sees Emma Swan, lost girl, broken woman and it scares her more than anything that he will bring her back.

(Somewhere deep down, she is more afraid that she might corrupt him too.)


	2. Prologue

_Graphic here:_ tmblr . co/ZVRwvr1KTIzpp

_Disclaimer:_ I own nothing.

* * *

She's bored out of her mind.

This one had been _too_ easy. All it had taken was a little threatening (a quick death too, nothing too elaborate) and he'd dropped his _true love_ like a sack of potatoes, ready to do anything she asked as long as she let him live. She was thoroughly convinced that human beings are only ever selfish when it comes down to it but really, a little bit of a fight would have been nice. As it stands, cowards were all she had been seeing the last few days and it was getting tedious.

She leans back on her throne, lets out a deep sigh and waves him away with a flick of her hand. She had stopped listening to his pleas and effusive flattery a while ago. She is about to call for another one when she hears a commotion from the back of the room. The guards are trying to push somebody out, his voice echoing in the quiet hall.

Her guards don't speak. She had enchanted the lot of them into silence when one of them (_Graham, _her mind supplies, but she shuts it down firmly) had dared to argue with her in _her _court_._ They had all lost that right the day her parents had sent her to Regina to hone her magic. They had turned her into a weapon and a weapon was all she had become.

_(But not good enough to save them. Not good enough—)_

"I wish to to see the queen, good sir! Is it true that she wears a dress fashioned with her enemies' blades?"

She chuckles and shakes her head a little. The rumours about her had really gotten absurd. He's slurring all his words together, clearly drunk out of his mind. He'd have to be, daring to barge in here this way. She leans back further and waves her hand in a gesture that instantly has all her guards moving away from the stranger. She beckons him forward and as he makes his way to her, she realises that he is a gorgeous specimen of a man, lean muscles, messy dark hair and the fact that one of his hands is a _hook_ oddly seems to add to his allure. He reaches her throne and drops down to one knee in an exaggerated bow.

"Killian Jones, at your service your majesty." He grins wolfishly and looks up at her, meeting her eyes. It takes her by surprise, it's been a while since somebody has had the spine to do that.

"Or Hook, if you'd rather." He gestures a bit with the appendage and a slow smile creeps across her face.

_She likes this one._

She stands, slow, graceful and all her men take a collective step back, the sound echoing in the room. (Everything echoes in this room, as though it is trying to fill itself with _something_ after being constantly empty.) She walks towards him and Killian, no, Hook—she prefers _Hook_—is clearly mesmerised, following her every movement.

She knows she makes an imposing picture, the silver shards of her dress clinking together, the sun reflecting off her spiked crown, the heels of her shoes clacking against the cold floor. When she reaches him, he makes a move to stand but she gestures for him to stay down. He places his hand and hook on his knee and looks up at her, still smiling. She has been taken aback by this man twice now and she thinks it's time to wipe that smile off his face.

Using the pointed metal she wears at the end of her index finger, she tilts his chin further up towards her.

"Have you got a death wish… _Hook_?", she drawls.

"Maybe.", he answers, seemingly unfazed.

She raises her eyebrow and scratches his jaw as she makes a slow circuit around him. Close up, he is just as beautiful and as it appears, just as stupid. She's not clear on why she hasn't disposed of him yet. It probably says something about how bored she is or how amusing _he_ is. She digs her hands into his hair as she turns around to face him again and pulls him up to standing.

"That can be arranged quite easily. Though, it wouldn't be much fun now, would it?"

"Or very honourable of you, murdering a guest to your home in cold blood."

_(Your honour is your most important asset, Emma. Even when you have nothing, you word should mean everything.)_

She pushes the sudden voice in her head away brutally, trying to forget the warmth of an embrace, the weight of a hand on the back of her head. She pulls his hair harder, his head back further and drags one finger along the open neckline of his shirt. Her teeth are barred and her voice comes out in a growl.

"You would do better to know your place." She pushes him away harshly at the last word. Magic crackles between her fingertips as she struggles to control herself.

He barks out a laugh and speaks from his position on the ground.

"I know my place quite well, your highness_. _It's why I'm here, to take it at your feet, to serve at your beck and call.", he declares with a flourish of his arm.

"I assure you, you will find me to be a very loyal and _willing_ servant." He licks his lips and despite his ingratiating words, his tone remains derisive and she is not sure if she wants to blast him out of existence or kiss the life out of him.

She _has _been craving a new toy and he's challenging enough, has something of a wit and the fact that he's easy on the eyes is a lovely bonus.

She walks over to him, helps him up and gives him a sweet smile that is betrayed by the coolness in her eyes. She pulls him into a hard kiss, all sharp teeth and tongue and he responds just as furiously. When she pulls away, she bites his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. He's panting, taking in huge breaths as he grins through his bloodstained teeth.

_Yes_.

She was going to enjoy breaking this one.


	3. Chapter 1

_Graphic here:_ tmblr . co/ZVRwvr1LU50vP

_Disclaimer:_ I own nothing.

* * *

She loves the way he looks in this position.

Flat on his back, chin raised, delicious neck exposed and best of all, _beneath_ her. She is usually too focused on her pleasure, on the burning heat spreading through her body to really appreciate the view. But, today, she's got a sword pressed to his throat, self-satisfied grin on her face a seriously pissed off Hook staring up at her.

She _loves _it.

He had found her that morning, wearing chain mail, brandishing two swords, practising her footwork. It's an unnecessary exercise but it helps calm her, centre her, and today of all days, she had needed it.

(The fact that the swords are her father's and the coat is her mother's has nothing to do with it.)

She had smiled when she had seen him approach from the corner of her eye. He'd looked a little bit like somebody had knocked him over the head with something. She loves having this effect on him, it reasserts the power she has over him and he seems to need reminding of that more often than most.

As he had gotten closer, she had decided to throw in a little bit of theatre and swirled some snow around her body in wisps to make herself look even more like something _other, _like something that doesn't belong in this world and the way his steps had faltered had proved to her that it had worked.

She had finally turned to look at him properly and been surprised to find him closer than she had expected, his hand reaching out to grab one of her swords, smile on his face. Her eyebrows had gone up, he was getting more audacious by the day. She had decided right then that teaching him a little lesson was a brilliant idea.

"Feeling lucky today, Captain? How about a friendly duel?"

She had handed him one of her swords and he'd taken it without hesitation. His smile had widened and he had spun the sword around with his hand.

"I might be, your highness. I just hope last night hasn't tired you out." He'd licked his lips in a gesture that had her insides pooling with warmth. He really was far too cocky for his own good.

She had made the first move.

And just like that, there was no more talking. The only thing they had been able to hear had been the clanging of swords and the wind. The snow had flown up when they moved, doing nothing to hinder her but slipping him up once or twice. He had recovered almost immediately, but clearly the elements were working against him. They had fought fiercely, neither of them holding back.

They had seemed to be evenly matched but she had seen that the cold was getting to him. She had remained unaffected of course, because of the little spell she had cast on herself to keep her at a comfortable temperature at all times. She realises that it is indulgent but honestly, what's stopping her?

She could have very easily extended this little courtesy to him, made the match fair but she hasn't cared about being fair for a very long time. So, she had waited for him to tire out before she had made her move and that is how they'd gotten to where they are now.

"Still feeling lucky, Hook?"

"I've got a breathtakingly beautiful woman on top of me. Why, I'm the luckiest man in the world! Would you like me to share some of that _luck_ with you?" He smirks at her, waggles his eyebrows suggestively and thrusts his hips up a little. He's trying for playful but the set of his jaw and and the tightness of his grip on her waist tells her that the defeat has affected him and that, more than anything, is the reason she leans down and kisses him.

(She extends her spell to include him.)

(They return to the castle completely soaked.)

* * *

Sometimes her days have a schedule. She wakes up at dawn— sleep does not hold much pleasure for her anymore— visits her barracks to inspect her soldiers, goes to her library to practise her magic, occasionally eats something but basically spends all her time making sure that her kingdom is protected from any and every threat. She is ruthless in her inspections and _removes_ anybody who is less than perfect. Those are the good days.

On her bad days, when the magic is too much for her, when all she hears are screams in her head, she silences them by letting it out. She uses her magic in the only way that the anguish, the hate will allow. She uses it to hurt.

Today is a bad day. Despite her little sojourn with Hook in the morning, she is more agitated than usual. After they had returned to the castle, she had dismissed him and stalked to her throne room. The cavernous room does nothing to calm her, all it does is amplify the screaming. She had known that today was going to be difficult but—

_Emma, run! We'll be alright, I promise!_

_Mother, no!_

She shakes her head and pushes the memories to the back of her mind. She summons one of her latest projects, a woman she'd found on one of her trips up into town. She is a teacher, a wonderfully wholesome person who probably hasn't ever had a single evil thought. She is keeping her well fed and comfortable, trying everyday to convince her to give in, to give up one of her students in exchange for a life of comfort like she has never imagined. The woman was proving to be quite a challenge.

She plays with her for a while, asks her questions and manages to make her admit that the food here was better than anything she had ever tasted in her entire life. She tells her how there will be more where that had come from if she just does as the queen commands and the doubt that flickers across her face, on any other day would have been enough for her but today, it does nothing.

She sends her away and summons Hook. Maybe he is the only one who would sate her today.

He comes to her fresh out of a bath, hair still damp, his shirt sticking in wet patches to his chest. He'd forgone his vest and coat in his haste and she smiles slowly.

_Good. He was learning._

He reaches the throne and kneels immediately.

"What can I do for you, your majesty?"

His voice still holds some mirth, like this is all some colossal joke to him, like she isn't the thing from his nightmares and her magic crackles inside her. She doesn't let it show, maintaining her cool, unflinching facade. Another thing, besides her skills with the sword, that she had learned from her fa—

"Stand up.", she commands and he follows.

She gestures with her hand and he is suddenly floating a few feet above the ground. It doesn't seem to faze him, his only reaction is an incredulous bark of laughter.

(Sometimes she thinks he is almost as mad as she is.)

She spins him around once, twice and the smile falls off his face. She lowers him and brings him closer to her, still floating a little above the ground but at eye level with her.

"I was wondering Captain, what exactly brought you to me. You've got to be either suicidal or insane."

"My only motive is the desire for your _fascinating_ company, darling."

He knows he's made a mistake by the way his mouth snaps shut as soon as he finishes his sentence. But, the damage is done. She drops him and he lands on his knees. She descends from her throne and pushes him down on his back, her heel on his chest.

"You will address me as befitting your station. Do you understand?", she grits out, punctuating her sentence with her foot, pressing harder into his chest.

He winces and nods aggressively.

"I apologise, your highness. It won't happen again.", he says, his voice strained.

She takes her heel off his chest and circles him, the sound of her clacking heels echoing.

"I was going to give you the chance to tell me the story yourself but I suppose the time for that has passed. Hasn't it, _Lieutenant Jones_?"

She smirks at the dumfounded expression on his face. He recovers fast—he seems to be good at that— and looks up at her with a tight smile but his eyes are all fire.

"I did my research. You weren't too hard to figure out. You want revenge for your brother and you expect _me _to help you."

The day she had found out about his brother, she had faltered in her attitude towards him and refused to see him all day lest she show some accidental softness.

It had been a particularly hard day for the teacher.

She stops in front of him.

"Why makes you think that I would deign to help _you_?"

His face softens and she is a little perplexed.

"Because you know what it's like to lose family.", he almost whispers it but she feels as though he has cut her with his words.

She feels a panic low in her belly. She turns around and leaves the room, slamming the door in her wake. The sound echoes in the room and she hopes it is loud enough to cover the sound of the sob that escapes her.

* * *

That night, after she has calmed down and practised some offensive spells at a target for a few hours, she eats her dinner alone. Her thoughts are tumultuous as they go this way and that, always coming back to Hook's words. She smiles a bitter smile. How had she let him get to her?

She hears the sound of approaching footsteps. It's him.

Nobody else would dare.

He walks up behind her, puts his hand and hook on her shoulder and gently coaxes her into standing. His arms come around her, her eyes shut and she lets him do as he pleases, both of them swaying on their feet.

She realises later that this moment had been her first mistake.

But right now, as his lips caress her neck and his hook grazes her chest, she could not care less.

The voices in her head have finally quieted down.

At least for now.


	4. Chapter 2

_Graphic here: _tmblr . co/ZVRwvr1MUwxzd

_A/N:_ Thank you guys so much for the reviews and follows and things! I hope you like this chapter. Let me know what you think!

_Disclaimer:_ I own nothing.

* * *

She has never seen him this angry before.

He's shaking with it, shoulders set, fist clenched and his hook twitching every now and again like he wants to lunge at her with it. The fact that he doesn't, gives her a rush that has heat rushing through her. He's dressed in his Lieutenant's uniform—she's put him in it—and it looks _wrong_ on him. The crisp, bright colours a contrast to the sharp edges and dark shadows of his face. His kohl looks darker, his hook more deadly somehow. Everything about him serving to clash with his clothes and she knows that this is what is making him so angry, the fact that she has made a farcical display of the man he used to be. She cannot control her smile. She finally feels like she has beaten him, that she has won whatever twisted game they have been playing since the day they met.

The day had been difficult for her, the voices tormenting her relentlessly. Her hair is out of her usual elaborate braids and she is still dressed in her night gown, the translucent fabric making her look softer than she has ever allowed herself to look in front of other people. She had not had the energy or the will to put on all of her armour before stepping out. Instead, she had put on her crown and summoned him. He had spent the night before by himself, the voices had been getting too intense to risk his presence. The smirk on his face and his declarations of her inability to resist him (_Has one night away been too long, my queen?) _as he had entered her chambers, had irked her like never before. She'd grabbed him and pulled him into a hard kiss, determined to force all thoughts of her parents, of Regina out of her head. Their voices, their words were ringing in her ears constantly. Even as she slept they persisted, making her relive those last few moments before everything had changed over and over again. She saw her parents screaming at her to get away. She saw Regina standing tall, majestic, looking like the very embodiment of power. She saw her disappear into the blinding wall of white. She felt the wind biting into her as she ran, the cold slowing her down. She felt her heart pounding, the panic, the guilt. She always woke sweating, breathing hard, her skin burning with heat.

But even Hook had not succeeded in pulling her away from her agitation that day. She'd felt his smile through their kiss and pushed him away harshly. He'd staggered back a few steps, his eye brows raised, mouth still open. Catching him by surprise had lifted her mood a little but it wasn't enough.

She could still hear her father.

(_Emma go! We'll find you back at the castle. Go!)_

She'd shaken her head in an attempt to silence the screaming sound of the wind in her head and focused on the man standing in front of her. He had recovered from his earlier shock and now just looked confused. She'd seen a smidgen of concern in his eyes and her simmering anger, at him, at her own inability to deal with the nightmares and voices, had exploded into their current situation. She had snapped her fingers and put him in the uniform and based on the way his posture had stiffened immediately, she assumed she'd succeeded in hitting a nerve.

"I think I like you in this outfit, _Lieutenant_."

He finally raises his head to look at her and she is just a little taken aback by the venom in his gaze.

"Change them back.", he snarls.

She's is about to reprimand him for his impudence but before she can open her mouth—

_"Come on Princess, you can do better than that. But maybe I've over estimated you. You are, after all, your mother's daughter."_

Regina's voice is so loud, she instinctively claps her hands on her ears, shuts her eyes tight enough to see stars. When she opens them, Hook is closer to her than before and there's that irritating look in his eyes again, like he cares about what's happening to her. He's still angry or he'd have touched her by now but he's calmed down enough that he isn't grinding his teeth anymore, isn't restraining himself from hurting her.

She hates it. She hates the fact that he's picked up on the way that her nightmares have been affecting her, that he's seeing her _weak. _But, most of all she hates the pity she sees in the way he looks at her.

She drops her hands.

"Get out." Her voice is a growl and the hostility seems to return to his demeanour.

He turns around and walks out, slamming the door in his wake.

* * *

_"I'm so sorry."_

_"Mama, it's ok. I'll be alright." _

_She doesn't sound as convincing as she'd like to, her voice cracking half way through her sentence. Her mother's eyes shine with tears as she pulls her in for a hug. She tries to memorise the moment, the softness of her dress, the hint of lemons in her scent, the way her fingers comb through her hair._

_She pulls away reluctantly and starts frantically stuffing the clothes laid out on her bed into the chest sitting next to it. She tries to stop the tears from falling but a broken sob escapes her all the same. _

_"Oh Emma." She feels arms come around her, the dress in her hand falls to the ground and she finally lets herself cry._

* * *

She wakes with dampness on her cheeks, taking laboured breaths. She squeezes her eyes shut and wraps her arms around herself, tries to stem the panic. It doesn't work, she keeps seeing flashes of her mother, her midnight hair, her warm smile. She falls back into her pillows and gives in to the feelings that her dream had awakened. She cries for what feels like hours, tears staining her sheets but doesn't let out a single sound. (Even in this moment of weakness, she needs to be in control.) She thinks of the day she had left her home for Regina's castle. She remembers the way her mother had cried with her and held her close for as long as she could, her father's eyes shining with tears as he had hugged her before escorting her to the carriage. She remembers his last words to her before she departed.

(_Remember Emma, if you ever need us, we will always find you._)

They had all known the day would come. When Regina had proposed a peace treaty with her parents, her only condition had been that Emma be trained in magic under her care. The fact that the Snow Queen had been a very real and looming threat coupled with Emma's own insistence that she be allowed to go had been the decisive factors and so, a few months later she had packed her bags and headed out to live with the Evil Queen. Leaving her parents had been one of the hardest things she had ever done and some days she still feels like she is living there in that big empty castle where she had learned how to harness her power, like there is a day just around the corner when she will be able to go back home, be able to hug her parents, be able to see her mother's smile again.

When she has finally run out of tears and all that is left are dry, heaving sobs, she takes a drink of water, wraps her cloak around herself and leaves her room.

When she was born, her mother had planted a garden inside the castle for her to play in. It was in a little courtyard near the centre of the building and over the years it had become her place of solace. She would go there to be alone, to think, to hide. She had not been in there in years but tonight, when the silence feels like it could deafen her, she needs to go to the place where she had last been happy.

When she had become confident with her magic, she'd enchanted the garden so that it was in bloom no matter what the weather was outside. So, despite the snow she sees when she looks up—stopping its descent abruptly at ceiling level—her little corner is just as warm and cozy as ever. The smell of the lemon trees and roses assault her senses and trigger a fresh onslaught of memories that have her holding herself tight and trying to control her sobs.

_"But Mama! I don't want to go to sewing lessons!"_

_"Come now Emma, they're not so bad. I promise I'll take you out to practise your archery later if you go."_

She takes a few deep breaths to calm down and takes a seat near the pond in the middle and dips her feet into the water. The sun's first rays are peeking through the clouds. She tilts her head up, closes her eyes and tries to forget but a few stray tears make their way down her face anyway.

"Your Highness?"

Her eyes snap open. Her first instinct is to destroy this person who had dared to intrude upon her. But when she turns around, she sees _him_, fully dressed but without his hook, deep shadows under his eyes. He clearly hasn't slept a wink and he's looking at her like he did this morning, like he _cares_. It's probably something to do with the night, or the fact that they are both armour-less, her without her crown and him without his hook, but she wants to ask him to stay. She turns back around and quietly casts a glamour spell on herself so he can't see her puffy eyes and the tear tracks on her cheeks.

"Sit."

He makes his way towards her and sits, begins to stare determinedly into the water. The hostility of the morning is still present but it's softer now. He always looks so conflicted when he looks at her, like he can't decide if he wants to hold her or kill her.

(She feels the same way for the most part.)

She tries to distract herself by focussing on him.

"Do you honestly expect me to declare war on your account? You're not _that_ good in bed.", she deadpans.

He smirks and she can see the self-loathing there.

"Please don't presume to know my motivations, my queen. I assure you they are much more complex than charming my way into a war."

She raises her eyebrows but before she can answer—

"Are you having nightmares? Hearing voices?"

His voice is soft, tentative, like he's talking to a child. Heat rushes through her body and she feels a flush staining her cheeks. The sudden shock at being found out gives way to anger. She is livid, her hands clenching into fists but before she can make a move, she hears someone speak.

"Your Majesty, if I may have a word?"

She knows that voice well. It hadn't always sounded so timid, once upon a time her Uncle Grumpy was her favourite. She remembers his voice as he would come bounding into her rooms (_Where's my favourite princess?_), the way he would sneak her candy from the kitchens and take her out into the forest for little adventures. But she had stopped being his little princess the day she had had that spiked crown made.

She doesn't think she can handle much more today but she steels herself and looks at him.

"Yes?"

"Rumplestiltskin is here to see you."


	5. Chapter 3

_Graphic here: _tmblr . co/ZVRwvr1NjWA7n

_A/N:_ Apologies for the delay! Writing Killian POV was harder than I thought! I'm excited for the next update and it should come soon. Please let me know what you think! :)

_Disclaimer:_ I own nothing.

* * *

"Milah!"

It's the third night this week that he wakes up screaming her name. Visions of her death, whispers of her last words, the way the light had gone out of her eyes torment his nights. He is not sure if it is the effect of this barren castle or if it is his heart proclaiming its guilt at what he is doing with the queen. He _knows _he doesn't feel for her the way he did for his Milah but sometimes when he is with her, he sees something that causes his heart to ache with feeling. He is not sure what this feeling is yet. He wavers between a vague affection and an acute loathing. She both repels and awes him.

Some days all he wants to do is hurt her. When she had done her trick with his uniform, he had barely controlled his impulse to attack, her magic be damned. The only thing that had stopped him was Milah's voice in his head. (_Killian, I love you._) Later, when she had dismissed him, he had scrubbed his skin raw, trying to wash away the man he used to be. The naive lieutenant who believed that his honour was everything, the young man in love who thought he was invincible. There is no place for him here.

Other days, he watches her command and rule and he is in awe of her majesty. She is royal in every sense of the word and her magic is just another part of her that he admires. She is cold and controlling and rationally he knows he should be feeling fear but sometimes, her mask slips and for a a single flashing moment all he wants to do is hold her, kiss her.

He knows her story, everyone does. Princess Emma, raised with all the love in the world by her parents, Snow White and Prince Charming, actual living examples of True Love. Sent to live and train under the Evil Queen as a part of a peace treaty. Loses everyone she loves in a final battle against the Snow Queen. Loses control of her magic and destroys the Snow Queen but changes the kingdom and herself, forever.

He sees her pain, he sees that she is broken just like he is. He squashes those feelings ruthlessly. He is here for a reason and he knows he cannot afford this kind of weakness.

He shakes his head, throws on his coat and walks out the door.

He needs to clear his head.

Maybe the cold will help.

* * *

She is beautiful in the early morning light, enveloped in a sort of misty coldness that seems to follow her everywhere. Rays of sunlight illuminate her tumble of golden hair, currently swept over one shoulder, hiding her face from him. She looks soft and touchable, a glaring contrast to how she is usually. Even when she is bare and beneath him, she makes no loud noises, says nothing, the only sounds that escape are her little gasps and satisfied sighs. She is always, always in control. He, on the other hand tries to lose himself in warmth of her body, in the touch of her skin. When he touches her, he expects a chill, sharp edges and rigidity but she is warm, pliant and _beautiful _and he forgets. He forgets who he is, what he has done and for a few moments there is only her and him. She smiles a small, sated smile, after. It only lasts a second before her armour is up again but he _sees_.

The way she looks in that moment takes his breath away every time.

Tonight, as she sits with her feet dipped in a pond, elbows on her knees, dressed in her diaphanous nightgown she looks human, vulnerable and that is probably what gives him the courage to ask her about the nightmares, the voices.

He'd noticed, of course. He'd seen her freeze up, seen the colour draining from her face, her constant harshness fall away for a heartbeat, a stricken look taking it's place. He doesn't really think it through the way he does every other thing he says to her (her temper is formidable, he knows from experience), it just spills out. He knows he's made a mistake when she stiffens and whips around to look at him. He can almost feel the fire in her eyes burning his skin.

"Your Majesty, if I may have a word?"

He lets out a small sigh, grateful, and turns to look at the owner of the voice.

When the dwarf mentions Rumplestiltskin, his gaze snaps up to her but she hasn't noticed the set of his jaw, his hand clenched into a tight fist, the colour rushing into his face. He takes a deep breath and quickly schools his features into indifference. She doesn't know as much as she thinks she does and he is glad. When she had cornered him about his brother, he had been shocked but relieved that she seemed to be unaware of his true motives.

"I'll see him in the throne room."

The dwarf bows and leaves the garden. She makes to leave as well and it takes all his strength to keep from pushing past her to run to the Crocodile and plunge his hook into his heart. But, he grabs his belt buckle, puts his swagger back on and attempts to follows her. The Crocodile cannot be allowed to see him, but he needs to know what he has come to talk to her about. He is so engrossed in his thoughts that he doesn't notice the way she stops abruptly and turns to face him. He takes a quick step back but she is still close enough that he can see the redness of her eyes.

_She's been crying?_

She'd obviously cast some sort of spell to hide her true appearance but he is now too close for it to work. Suddenly, all he wants to do is comfort her.  
The intensity of the feeling staggers him. His gaze flits between her eyes trying to find the reason for her tears.

"Get some sleep, Hook."

He stiffens. He knows he's been dismissed and that he is in no position to argue with her. But, he can't help but throw one last barb in her direction.

"You should get some too my queen. You don't look too well."

He feels her eyes on his back as he leaves.

* * *

All he can hear are muffled voices from behind the glass.

He'd noticed the ledges outside the windows of the throne room before he'd made his first appearance to the queen and as soon as she had made her way to meet Rumplestiltskin, he had made his way to the windows.

He _had _to know.

But, it now seems like it had been a futile exercise because he can't make out a single word they are saying. He sees her sitting on her throne, leaning back, looking down at the man below who is speaking and waving his arms about like he does. Suddenly, she stands and begins to stalk towards him, her magic sparking around her, she points a finger at the door and despite the glass he can hear her angry dismissal clearly.  
The Crocodile makes his way out reluctantly. It seems even he is afraid of the queen's wrath. After Rumplestiltskin has left, he quietly gets down from his position and begins walking back to his rooms.

He doesn't fall asleep for a long time and when he does, his dreams are plagued with Rumplestiltskin's laugh, Milah's voice and inexplicably, the queen's smile.

* * *

She summons him early the next day. He hasn't slept and from the looks of it, neither has she. But despite the bags under her eyes and the unnatural alertness of her posture, she looks fierce and determined, dressed in some sort of armour, holding the reins to a white horse.

"Good Morning Captain! Can you handle yourself on a horse?", she calls out to him.

He smirks and calls back, "I assure you milady, I am quite adept at taming all manner of beasts!"

She raises one eyebrow and gestures to have another horse brought to him.

The day is warm and despite that fact that they are all quite used to the weather doing as it pleases, it still sometimes takes him by surprise how one day is spent indoors trying not to freeze to death and the other is spent by the river trying to get as cool as possible. Ever since the Snow Queen's defeat, the people of the kingdom had enjoyed their good days when they could.

They ride on at an ambling pace. She is quieter than usual, occasionally looking back to see if he is keeping up with her but ignoring him for the most part. He is not sure why she has brought him with her. He remembers another warm day a few weeks ago when she had insisted he take a walk with her down to a lake. He remembers how her eyes had glinted with mischief as she'd pulled him towards her and onto the ground. (_I thought we might get back to nature a little bit, Hook. What do you think?)_He remembers her purrs and sighs and the way they had moved together. She had been more _free _that day than he had ever seen her, still in control but her gasps a little louder, her satisfied smile lingering. He remembers thinking that that would be a good day to bring up the topic of Rumplestiltskin but when they had gotten back, things had gone back to normal and he had lost his chance.

He notices that her horse is slowing down, the reins going slack and he is just about to call out to her when she topples right off.

He curses and jumps off his horse, feeling an inordinate amount of concern.

Falling to his knees he lifts her head onto his lap. His hooked arm is around her waist and his hand is at her shoulder. She's blinking rapidly and struggling in his hold.

He shakes her.

"Your Majesty! Wake up!"

She only struggles harder, arching out of his grip. He continues to shake her and cry out her title but it seems to be have no effect.

"Emma!"

She goes limp and her eyes flutter open.

"Papa?"


	6. Chapter 4

_Graphic here: _tmblr . co/ZVRwvr1P5Zc7B

_A/N:_ So sorry this took so long but I'm quite happy with this chapter and really excited to know what you think! The first two sections overlap with the previous chapter a little bit. Reviews make me want to dance! 3

_Disclaimer:_ I own nothing.

* * *

"Good Morning Dearie! You _know_ I don't like to be kept waiting."

She hears him as soon as she enter the throne room. He's facing away from her, looking out the windows.

"What do you want Rumplestitlskin?", she snarls at him as she takes her seat. She'd gotten dressed as soon as she had heard that he was here, the final remnant of the life she used to live. She needs all her armour for this. He turns around to look at her and she controls the shudder that flows through her. No matter how many times she meets him, the sight of his golden skin never fails to make her blood run cold. She knows that it is what remains of her fear as a child when he had been imprisoned in their castle dungeons. She had seen him brought out for various public trials, always under heavy guard and his face, his voice had scared her. But more than that, it was the way her father acted around him, always on the defensive, one hand on his sword at all times. It was the fact that _he _was afraid, that this _person_ or whatever he was, scared her strong, invincible father. That is what causes her hackles to rise and her magic to flit in sharp bursts between her fingertips.

He's staring at her with his head tilted like he's trying to read her mind. She knows it isn't possible but she wouldn't put it past him to try. When he continues to stay silent, she asks him again.

"Why are you here? There is nobody left for you to make deals with."

He smiles at that and takes a step forward, raising his arms in a flourish that she knows well.

"Now now dearie, I wouldn't say that."

He takes another step forward.

"Even though you weren't my first choice, I suppose you will have to do."

"Stop speaking in riddles and spit it out."

He laughs and she wants to bodily throw him out but she restrains herself. She knows he can already spot the the chinks in her armour.

"I have a proposal for you. Accept, and you will live a full life, loved and happy."

"And if I refuse?"

"If you refuse, nothing happens, your life goes on the way it does now, hollow, lonely."

She feels her fists clench, the electric buzz of her magic flowing out to her fingertips, her heart pulses with it. But then, he smiles and she falters. He's managed to rile her up so easily and she has let him. She bites her anger back and gives him a tight smile.

"What makes you think my life is hollow?"

"Let's not get caught up in semantics, dearie. Don't you want to hear about what I have to offer?"

"I don't make deals with monsters."

"It takes one to know one."

Suddenly, it's too much. Everything is too much. She wants to break down crying, she wants to hurt him.

(_She wants her mother._)

She controls herself again but she knows she's holding on by a thread. He continues to speak, unaware of her torment or perhaps taking advantage of it.

"Here's my proposal your majesty, you use your exemplary magical skills and cast a little curse for me and you wake a whole new woman, unaware of the tragic events of your past, only remembering the things you want to remember, untouched by magic, unsullied by it's influence. You could be happy again."

She tries to remember the last time she laughed, a real, happy laugh and she can't. It's been too long, she's been hurt too much. Maybe this is the only way she will make it through this, this _farce_ that her life has become. But there had to be a catch.

"And what will you get in return?"

"The pleasure of being the cause for your joy of course!"

Her magic sparks at her fingertips.

"Don't lie to me imp."

"You always were a sharp one your highness."

He comes closer and even though she has a few feet of height on him, he still manages to make her scoot backwards in her chair.

He meets her eyes and says, "I would be able to see my son again."

And it is the first time he has looked anything close to human.

"What would I have to do?" She can barely recognise her voice, breathy, vulnerable. She knows this is a bad idea, that with Rumplestiltskin there was always a catch. Her parents had lived through it so many times and yet, she finds herself unable to refuse.

(_What has she got to lose? _)

"It's all very simple, a few strange and gory ingredients, a fire, some words and all your dreams come true. But, one ingredient will be a little hard to come by-"

And there it was.

"You will need the heart of the one you love most."

She feels her stomach drop.

"There's no one left and you know it.", she spits out.

"Oh but, I've heard rumours! Of a man who lives in your castle. You treat him well, you indulge his fancies. I've never thought of you as a benevolent ruler. Surely you must feel something for him?"

Hook's face flashes in her mind, the way he'd looked when he had asked about her nightmares, all concern and sincerity and strangely, her heart repels the thought of pulling his heart out.

She stands and lets all of the rage she had been swallowing down since he came in, out all at once.

"Leave!"

Her voice echoes in her empty room.

He grins knowingly.

"Think about it dearie and when you've made your decision, send for me. Your guards know where to find me."

He turns around and with a sweep of his coat makes his way out.

That night she dreams her usual dreams but Hook is always there, smiling, comforting and she wakes more unsettled than ever.

* * *

She had needed to get away today, away from the looming presence of her ghosts at every corner of the castle. She invites him because she needs to prove _something_ to herself, she needs to confirm the fact that he is but a plaything to her.

He is _nothing_.

She keeps moving forward, ignoring him, lost in her thoughts.

_"Emma!"_

She jumps at the sound of her name. Nobody has called her that in years.

She hears a tinkling, carefree laugh, the sound of muffled footsteps on grass as somebody runs.

_"Come on Emma! Your mother will have my head if I bring you home late and soaked no less!"_

_"You'll have to catch me first daddy!"_

She hears his booming laugh, feels his arms around her waist as he catches her.

_"Caught you, you little monkey!"_

She feels the wind whoosh past her as he spins her around.

She smiles.

"Your majesty!"

A different voice, smoother, softer.

"Wake up!"

She doesn't want to. She has to go home with papa.

"Emma!"

She comes back to herself slowly, sees a blurry face above her.

"Papa?"

His thumb strokes her cheek.

"Emma, are you alright?"

His face comes into focus.

Hook.

She pushes away from him and stands up as gracefully as she can manage.

She feels heat creep up her neck, her face. Her heart races and she avoids his eyes as she gets back on her horse and rides on.

She feels his eyes on her back.

(He is nothing.)

* * *

His coat feels like it weighs more than he does, hindering his movements as he tries to steer them out of the storm.

The rain is falling thick and fast, obscuring his vision but he can still make out the chaos on deck. He sees his men engaged in skirmishes against the Dark One's forces, hears swords clanging as they crash against one another. The wind is throwing them this way and that and his arms ache from trying to hold the wheel steady. He lets it go for a second, when there is a brief respite from the screaming wind and the tossing waves and throws his coat off his shoulders.

He breathes a little sigh of relief, being able to move easier takes a little of his strain away but the worry of surviving this battle weighs heavy on his mind. He knows his men are capable but fighting against someone who could conjure a storm at will is something he had never prepared them for. His eyes search for her constantly. His gaze darts to every falling shadow, to every charging sword, checking to see if she is still there, if she is alright. He has always been one to keep his head in these situations but he can't help the panic brewing in his gut when he can't spot her. He cranes his neck to look behind him but he can't turn very far without letting go of the wheel. He barks out a loud curse and continues his search within his limited field of vision. He feels like he is on the verge of screaming with frustration when he hears her voice.

"Enough!", she sounds like she is alright, her voice as strong as ever.

And suddenly he sees her, sweeping in front of him, down to the deck. She's soaked to the bone, her gown moulded to her every curve. He wonders how he thought he could ever miss her amidst the mayhem on deck. She is incandescent, she _glows._

She stands right in the centre of the fighting and his anxiety returns in full strength. He is about to shout out to her when she raises her arms above her head. Two streams of white light extend towards the sky and suddenly, there is calm.

She had somehow gotten rid of the storm.

A surge of awe and pride flows through him. He sees her swaying a little as her arms come down, she shrugs off the hand that someone puts out to steady her and walks up to him with a triumphant smile on her face. He can't stop his answering grin.

When she reaches him, she wraps her arms around his waist and puts her chin on his shoulder.

"So, how good of a Captain are you, sailor?"

He smiles and turns around to kiss her temple.

"The very best, my love."

* * *

She wakes up slowly, steeped in a comfortable haze. She reaches probing arm out to the other side of the bed, patting the empty space and when she doesn't find the warm body her sleepy mind was looking for, she sits up, suddenly fully awake. She moves her arm back to her side as if the bed had burned her.

She's disoriented from the dream. She feels like she doesn't _fit_ in her body, she had been _him _and she had seen herself the way he did.

Or the way she thought he did? It was after all, her brain that had conjured the whole thing.

She shakes her head and tries to forget the way she had looked in the dream, glowing, warm, smiling, powerful, _happy._ He'd called her his _love_ and she had felt it, she'd felt the love he felt for her, the worry when he couldn't find her. She screws her eyes shut and tries to calm her stuttering heart, to stop her hands from trembling. She tries to come back to herself, to remember what _she_ thinks, to remember who she is. She reminds herself that he has an agenda, that he cannot feel anything but lust for her.

He is nothing.

(She doesn't think that even she believes herself that time.)


	7. Chapter 5

_Graphic here:_ tmblr . co/ZVRwvr1RVktPi

_Disclaimer:_ I own nothing.

_A/N:_ Ahh! Ok, I'm really excited about this chapter! I hope you guys like it. Please let me know what you think! I'd really appreciate it. :)

* * *

She doesn't let anybody enter her chambers after nightfall. It is as though with the descent of the sun, her rooms expose every chink in her armour, every crack in her soul. No. She doesn't let anyone enter where the walls have seen her break and the pillows still bear the shadows of her tears.

Except tonight.

Except _him_.

* * *

For all the days that follow Rumplestiltskin's visit, she thinks of but one thing. His offer flows in eddies about her head, tempting her to accept, to finally give in. She is so _tired_, tired of living this empty life where she cares for no one, is cared for by no one, haunted by the ghosts of her parents, controlled by her magic's lust for suffering. The only thing that stops her is her father's voice echoing in her ears.

(_Honour transcends death._)

She distracts herself by indulging her magic more and more. She goes into town and makes arrests indiscriminately. She throws innocent men and women into her dungeons. She _plays_ with them.

She takes the heart of a man so he no longer knows how to love his wife, his child. She watches his wife try to make him remember, watches her sob as she sees him stare back blankly. She watches her break.

She makes sure Hook is always around when she does this. She needs him to see her for who she is, not whatever image of her he seems to have conjured up for himself. Since that day in the woods when she had fallen, he has been looking at her differently. He looks at her like she is something fragile, like she might fall apart at any moment. Like she is human.

(Doesn't he know that she lost the last shreds of her humanity when she let her magic take over to destroy the Snow Queen?)

(All that was left in the aftermath was the ice.)

* * *

He is _warm_.

She feels his touch like he is bruising her very soul with it. She feels his calloused fingertips as he drags them between her breasts and down, down. She feels his lips, wet and hot and sliding against hers.

She knows she is forgetting something but she seems to have lost all ability to think.

* * *

Sleep has been eluding her since that night when she had dreamt of being him. Every time she shuts her eyes, she sees herself on the deck of his ship, glowing, powerful, happy only to awake minutes later, gasping, searching for his warmth in her bed.

She never finds it.

She hasn't allowed herself to be alone with him since that night either. He sees her better than anyone has in a long, long time and she doesn't know if she can handle his knowing gaze.

(He doesn't _know_ her.)

(He is _nothing._)

Her mind is at its most restless at these hours of the night when the world is quiet and the voices in her head are louder than ever. She realises that she has been clenching her fists so hard that she's left crescent moons on her palms. She slowly relaxes her hands and traces the marks on them absent-mindedly, the angry red indents stinging. Screwing her eyes shut tight enough to see stars, she tries again to get some sleep.

(_When you can't get to sleep, and your monsters seem invincible, think of me. Remember that I will never let anything happen to you, ok baby?_)

She thinks of her mother, her soft eyes and strong hands. She imagines her fingers in her hair, stroking it like she used to, imagines her sitting by her side, protecting her from her monsters.

Her tears stain her pillow but eventually, she sleeps.

* * *

She feels his thumb caressing her cheek, back and forth, soft and slow. She knows then that she's had her eyes shut for a while now.

"Look at me."

She seems to have lost all control over her body because her eyes flutter open, bending to the gentle persuasion of his voice. He looms over her, his eyes darting between hers as his hand slowly tangles in her hair. She is not sure that anyone has ever looked at her this way before.

(How had she let it get to this?)

* * *

"NO! Please!"

The woman's heart pulses in her hands, warm and alive. She feels a surge of vicious triumph and a smile breaks across her face when the woman's lover screams for her to let it go. Her hand is still in her chest when she chances a look at Hook. His jaw is clenched, his hand and hook locked behind his back. His eyes, wild and furious are fixed on her arm and the magic inside her sizzles and grows. She feels its heat spread along her body, filling all the emptiness inside her.

(It doesn't seem to matter, at that moment, that when she finishes, guilt and shame will take its place.)

This is the only time she feels _whole_, when her magic doesn't eat away at her, when the voices in her head are silent. She feels powerful, in control. She tightens her grip and the woman lets out a howl. Hook meets her eyes then, and she freezes.

She looks back the woman and releases her heart, making her stagger backwards clutching at her chest in shock. The man rushes rushes to her side in an instant.

"Take them away."

Her guards step in to take the sobbing couple away to throw them back into her dungeons.

"Why didn't you kill her?", his voice is raw, like _he_ had been the one screaming for the last hour.

She doesn't answer him and stalks away, her heels echoing loudly in the hall.

(When she shuts her eyes that night, she sees his eyes again and again.)

(Red and shining and filled with pain, so much pain.)

(She doesn't sleep.)

* * *

His hand is holding her jaw, coaxing her up for a kiss.

He is gentle and sweet and it feels like he is tasting her as he presses warm kisses down her throat. He spends a lifetime at her collarbones, mapping out every dip and ridge like he's memorising them, an age at her breasts, making her arch into him as soft mewls of pleasure escape her.

Her eyes burn with sudden tears and as he wipes them away, she lets herself believe, just for a moment, that she deserves to be loved.

* * *

Today, things change.

As she had watched the sun come up after another sleepless night, watched the light fill her chambers but leave her soul feeling as empty as ever, she had decided that she would accept Rumplestiltskin's offer. She would be weak, she would disappoint her father's memory but maybe after it all, there was a chance that she might be happy.

She needs his heart.

Well, she needs the heart of someone she cares about. She does not care for him but she _does _enjoy it when he is beneath her, writhing in pleasure, his voice hoarse as he begs for more. Perhaps that would be enough to cast the curse.

It would have to be. There is no one else.

* * *

When he finally moves within her, it is all skin and heat and she feels like she is slowly burning away until all that is left is sensation. The feeling of fullness, how his shoulders feel beneath her hands, how his kiss feels against her temple, her forehead, her neck, anywhere he can reach.

There is nothing but him.

* * *

She summons him to her chambers. She decides to be with him one last time before she pulls his heart out. She needs to feel _something_ for him, she supposes.

(Her heart is screaming out to her that she feels more for him than just lust but she has gotten quite good at silencing it.)

He comes to her just as the sun is setting and she knows she makes quite a picture, standing against her windows, wearing all black, her body outlined by the light. Her skin seems to glow and the slack-jawed look on his face indicates that her efforts have not been for naught.

She walks to him slowly, shedding her robe in the process, baring her shoulders to his hungry gaze. Her fingers graze his cheek and his eyes close. She smiles. She loves having this effect on him.

She leans in to capture his lips but he seems to gather himself and pulls away before she can. His arms come around her waist but he still keeps a distance between them.

"What's wrong Captain? Not in the mood? We could remedy that." Her voice is low and breathy as she runs her hands along his chest, reaching lower but he grabs her wrists and pulls her closer, his eyes meeting hers again.

"Why didn't you kill her?"

She freezes.

"You could have. Was that not you intention, you highness? To show me who you really are."

Suddenly she feels naked, the urge to reach for her robe to cover herself up is strong but she will not let him do this to her. She will not let him see that he has shaken her. She shrugs out of his hold and goes to stand by the window, facing away from him.

"That is none of—"

"But that isn't who you really are. I've seen you. You try to hide behind this mask because it is easy to give in to it. But, I know you can fight the magic, fight the taint. _Why don't you?_"

She feels a chill run down her spine, feels unsteady on her feet. She feels like he has stripped her of every piece of armour that she has built up over all the years after her parents' deaths and he had done like it was nothing. She takes deep breaths to calm herself.

His hand and hook come around her as he kisses her neck softly. Her anger flares and she pushes him away roughly.

"You know _nothing._", she grits out.

He seems unfazed, closing the distance between them again.

"I may not know everything, but I know this, you are a _good_ person. You are your parents' daughter."

His voice radiates sincerity, his gaze unwavering.

_He believes what he is saying._

He moves to kiss her again and this time, she lets him.

* * *

When she comes, her body curves into his, holding him as close to her as possible. Somewhere from the depths of her pleasure addled mind, she remembers his name and that is what she chants over and over like a prayer.

"Killian, Killian, _Killian._"

* * *

After, when they lie in a tangle of limbs and he is _still_ kissing her like she might disappear at any moment, she asks him the one question that has been plaguing her mind ever since she had regained some of her senses.

"Why are you here?"

He pauses.

"I wish I knew, love."

His voice is a mumble against her throat and she knows that this when she should push him away, when she should do what she had planned to do.

(Even thinking it makes her cringe in discomfort.)

But she is tired and he is warm.

For the first time in weeks, she falls asleep almost instantly.

* * *

_"No Princess! You need feel why you're doing this. Magic is emotion not logic!"_

_"I'm trying, your highness.", she all but growls at her._

_Regina is not a patient teacher._

_"I really shouldn't expect any better. You are your mother's daughter after all. Incompetence runs in the family."_

_She turns to look at Regina. Her face is screwed up into a sneer but as she is about to say something, it changes._

_"Emma!"_

_The world is spinning about her, Regina at its centre._

_Her clothes change from her gown to tattered rags, dark circles appear beneath her eyes._

_"Emma! This is a dream! Rumplestiltskin's been making me—"_

_Regina looks behind her like someone is coming after her. Abruptly, she vanishes and Emma is falling, falling._

* * *

She wakes with Killian's arms around her. He is saying something but all she can hear are Regina's final words before she had disappeared.

_Find me._


	8. Chapter 6

_Graphic here:_ tmblr . co/ZVRwvr1TiBKHK

_Disclaimer:_ I own nothing.

_A/N:_ Sorry that it took so long but here you go! :) Let me know what you think!

* * *

_Find Me._

Regina was alive. She was alive. She had survived that day all those years ago. She is all to familiar with the power of dreams and that was her. That was Regina. Did that mean her parents were alive too? She lets a stray surge of hope flow through her, just the thought of seeing them again bringing her to tears.

"Emma? Are you alright?"

She remembers where she is, still wrapped in his arms. When she turns to look at him, he's looking at her the way he does, all soft things and tenderness. She feels like just his gaze is enough to make her feel like she's bundled in a soft blanket, warm, safe. Her vision blurs further as she leans in to kiss him sweetly, wordlessly attempting to thank him for letting her feel this way. His arm around her shoulder wanders into her hair and his hook begins to stroke her waist.

"M'okay. Go back to sleep."

She kisses him again, both of them falling back into her pillows.

* * *

She rises with the sun and tries to spend as long as possible in the hazy in-between before she fully wakes. Her head rests on his chest, his arm around her waist, resting on her hip. She runs her fingers through his hair, feeling the softness of it, scratching his chest gently. She revels in the feeling of being able to let go this way around someone. She hasn't felt this way since-

She hasn't felt this way since before.

She knows it has to end.

* * *

She makes herself scarce before he wakes, disappearing into her library. She needs to find Regina. If Rumplestiltskin is holding her captive, finding her is going to be the least of her problems. She looks through her parents' logs on all their dealings with him.

(They'd begun keeping them after a while, in order to warn future generations of rulers about the consequences of dealing with a man like him.)

But, all she manages to find are memories hidden in the pages, in her mother's hurried scrawl, in her father's sweeping letters. She remembers playing on the carpet in this room as a child. She had always loved it, something about all the books and the cozy chairs had made her feel safe. She recalls the sunlight streaming in through the large windows, her father's hand ruffling her hair as he moved to sit in his chair to read. She remembers crawling into his lap and insisting he let her read as well and when she had fallen asleep halfway through a treaty with their neighbouring kingdom, she remembers his voice through a haze of sleep.

_Goodnight Princess._

She feels the shadow of his kiss on her forehead.

The book in her hand lays neglected as she loses herself in the memory. She doesn't notice him until he is standing right behind her and she feels his breath on her neck. She knows it's him, nobody else would dare. It hits her again, how different he is from anybody she has ever met before. She shuts the book and speaks without turning around.

"Good Morning Captain, I didn't think you'd recover _this_ quickly after last night. Craving more?"

Her voice is clipped, her tone curt. She puts as much disdain as she can manage into it, hoping to drive him away, hoping to avoid facing him.

"In any case, I don't have time for you right now. I suggest you occupy yourself elsewhere."

She moves back towards the shelves as she speaks, replacing the book in her hand with another. She hears him follow, his normally heavy footsteps muffled by the carpeting. His hand is soft as he runs it through the ends of her hair and she knows that if it were any other day she would have him pay for his impudence but today she is soft. Today, she is vulnerable and she lets him.

"Why were you dreaming about the Evil Queen?"

Her eyes fall shut and her grip on the book tightens. She has known him all of two months and he already reads her better than almost anybody she has ever known.

His voice is low and smooth as he continues.

"You screamed her name in your sleep, love and a lesser man would be jealous after the time we'd had."

An involuntary smile breaks across her face.

(She doesn't deserve this.)

(He is nothing.)

She schools her features into something resembling indifference before facing him. He's standing so close-too close- to her. She fights the urge to touch him, to trace the curve of his lips, the bridge of his nose, to feel the way she did that morning.

(Like she was loved.)

"You would do well to mind your own business, Captain. Now, please leave before I'm forced to take more _drastic_ measures."

She loosens her tight hold on her magic a little and allows it to escape from her fingertips, dancing between them in little sparks. She watches his eyes flicker to her hand but he doesn't back down, takes a step closer. His fingers grasp hers gently and he gasps as the magic touches him but his eyes never leave hers. His body stands straight, his gaze holding a challenge.

She jerks her hand out of his and takes a few steps away from him. She sees something like disappointment in his face but barely notices it past the overwhelming heat coursing through her body. She doesn't know if it is anger or shame or some mixture of both but she needs him to leave _now_. She moves her hand in an arc and he is suspended, pressed against the nearest wall.

"Don't test me, Hook. Just because I haven't disposed of you yet, doesn't mean I won't."

She lets him drop and he falls to the floor in a heap. She sees that he is about to speak but before he can get a word out, she leaves the room, door swinging on its hinges in her wake.

* * *

_"It's all about-"_

_"Emotion, I know. Saying it over and over again is not helping, you know."_

_Regina smiles tightly at her and she reciprocates with an overly sweet one. She's been trying to teach Emma how to use her magic to see things happening far away, scrying she calls it. But all Emma's been able produce for hours has been a fog that sometimes swirls into vague shapes before promptly vanishing all together. Needless to say, they're both quite frustrated._

_"Well, princess, it's the the most important lesson and at this moment the only one I can give you. Try to imagine clearly what you're trying to scry. You have to _want_ it."_

_She tries again. She thinks of honey brown curls and a soft lilting voice. She thinks of a red cloak and a feral smile. She misses them. They're supposed to be her godparents but it's always felt like they were her (much) older siblings. When Regina is telling her yet again how she isn't good enough, she tries to imagine what Red would say._

_(She's probably bite her. The thought always makes her smile.)_

_Graham would ask her to be patient, she's got a lot to learn and Regina is her best bet. The Snow Queen is a serious threat and Emma would be an invaluable asset if it ever came down to a war. Regina knows this and it's the only reason she pushed for a treaty to begin with but, gods if she doesn't wish she could turn into a werewolf occasionally when she really begins to grate on her nerves. The woman is nothing if not infuriating but she has her moments of candour that make her believe that they may be more similar than she thinks._

_Right now, is not one of them._

_She sighs and opens her eyes, expecting to see more fog and the usual amount of nothingness but a gasp leaves her lips as she watches Red walking down a forest path, her hood up and a basket in her hands. The image changes quickly and there's Graham, drinking at a tavern._

_"There you go. You're not as incompetent as I feared."_

* * *

Another dream.

She's not completely convinced that Regina isn't the one responsible for all the dreams she had been having of her past. They had in fact started quite recently, rising in intensity and frequency until her little episode in the forest the other day with Killian.

(Hook. He is Hook.)

(He is nothing.)

Walking about her throne room, she tries to plan her next move. She had always hated this place. Even before, when it had been covered in lush fabrics, full of warm alcoves to sit in. She'd never liked it. This was where her parents changed from being Mama and Papa to _Their Royal Highnesses_ and even though they never expected her to sit with them or take any sort of interest in the matters of the kingdom, she still resented the room for taking her parents away from her, even for a little bit.

After, she had stripped the room of all it's paintings and carpets, leaving the bare minimum. All that remained had been a bare, cold, empty room echoing with screams of despair, with pleas for mercy.

The sound of her heels clacking on the naked floor echoes as she paces.

Regina is clearly under Rumplestiltskin's control and unwillingly so, it seemed. She needed to rescue her but that involved finding a way into Rumplestiltskin's castle. She could always barge in and demand that he release Regina. She had enough confidence in her magic to do so but she's not sure if she wants to confront the Dark One unless absolutely necessary. So, stealth would be the way to go and the only person she could think of who could accomplish that was-

Her mother had told her of her time as a bandit, living on the run from Regina when she was 8 and it had captured her imagination like nothing else. She had dressed herself in whatever approximation of a bandit costume she could manage and insisted on living in the woods. Despite multiple people attempting to convince her to come back and live in the palace, she hadn't agreed until Red had come out and told her that she would be joining Emma and they couldn't see Mama and Papa again because they were the king and queen. Bandits and royals weren't friends. She had run straight into the throne room where her father had been holding court and run into his arms, calming down only when he promised her over and over that he would never leave her.

Red had always known her so well, she had always known what Emma needed. She had been there for her after, soothing her and holding her. She had stayed even after Emma had changed, even after her magic had become her master. But, seeing her everyday had taken a toll on Emma. The redness rimming her eyes, the happiness missing from her voice. Graham hadn't been any better, disappearing for hours into the woods and returning late at night. All it had done was remind her of what she had done.

(Graham had always said that it wasn't her fault, but she had never believed him.)

So she had sent him away. Her sweet, kind huntsman. She had screamed and shouted and _commanded_him away from her court, and Red had left as well.

They would know. If there was anyone in the world who would know how to get into Rumplestiltskin's castle, it was her parents' closest friends.

* * *

He is waiting for her by the stables, readying a horse for travel. Her heart stutters in her chest. She feels a pang of panic at the thought of him leaving, some vague feeling of loss.

(How could she lose something she's never had?)

(He is nothing.)

"Leaving, Captain? I don't recall giving you permission."

He turns to see her walk up to him. He gives her a small smile and shrugs before he replies.

"I came here of my own will, your majesty. I don't think I require permission to leave, do I?"

She's not sure what to say. He's been with her willingly for so long that it had never occurred to her that he might leave. She could keep him here, it would not take much but she like her toys to be willing to be with her, willing to play with their lives like that. He had always been different. Singular and outrageous. She begins to say something but he interrupts her.

"In any case, I would never leave you quite so abruptly, my queen. I'm simply going to accompany you."

Her mouth opens involuntarily, she shakes her head and gathers herself. He's smirking at her now, his eyebrow high on his forehead.

"How did you-", she cuts herself off, cringing at her stuttering.

"You may not have noticed, but I'm quite perceptive. Now, where are we headed?"

Her anger flares again, her magic itching to be used.

"Don't speak of things you know nothing about, Hook."

She clenches her fists and moves to her own horse. But suddenly, his hook is at her elbow, pulling her back to him. She spins around, ready to teach him a lesson in consequences when he takes her hand. He is soft and gentle as he interlaces their fingers.

"I may not know much but I know this. Rumplestiltskin was here to see you and you haven't been yourself since. Here is what _you_ don't know. I did not come to you to buy myself revenge for my brother. I came to you to get to the Crocodile. You are the only one in the realm that he will speak to with any degree of grudging respect. You are the only one he doesn't treat like his plaything."

His words are spoken softly, sincerely. She knows she should shrug him off, but she finds herself transfixed by his eyes. His eyes that never leave hers.

"Why?"

"I came here to learn what I could about him so I could finally avenge my love."

"The tattoo."

She'd seen it of course, but she'd never bothered to ask him about it. What they had, what they did, there was no place for tenderness there.

"Aye. Let me come with you. At worst, I will die in whatever quest you have decided to undertake and at best, I will get my revenge and you will have a loyal and able soldier at your command."

She unlaces their fingers with a jerk of her hand and steps back, turning to get on her horse. Her mind reels with the implications of what he'd just revealed and she speaks before she has thought about what she is saying.

"What are you waiting for? We have a long way to go."

She isn't sure if this is the best decision she has ever made but now is not the time to contemplate it.

She needs to find her godmother.


End file.
